In a quiet village nestled between dry hills and whispering trees, lived a twelve-year-old girl named Liana. Her days were simple, marked by dust-covered roads and the bittersweet scent of oranges. Every morning, barefoot and determined, she walked to the crowded town square, carrying a woven basket filled with fruit. She wasn’t just selling oranges—she was fighting time. Her younger brother, Tomas, had fallen seriously ill, and her family could barely afford food, let alone medicine.
Liana’s parents were kind but desperate. Her mother’s hands were worn from washing clothes for neighbors. Her father limped from an injury sustained years ago during harvest. Poverty had crept in slowly, like the evening fog, until it clouded everything. Each coin Liana earned from her oranges was a glimmer of hope—a small chance to keep her brother’s lungs breathing and his laughter alive.
A Stranger’s Proposal
One afternoon, as the sun hung low and the market began to thin out, an old man approached her stall. His clothes were neat, his beard silver, and his eyes carried a sharpness that unsettled her. He asked about the oranges, then about her family. His voice was calm, measured. When he spoke of Tomas, her heart froze.
“I’ve heard your brother needs medicine,” he said. “I can help.”
Her first instinct was suspicion—how did he know? But he explained he had visited their village before and often helped struggling families. Then came the offer: he would pay for Tomas’s treatment, provide food, and ensure the family never went hungry again.
In return, he asked to take Liana to live with him in the city.
The words hung in the air. There was no talk of marriage, but everyone understood. Her parents hesitated, but desperation spoke louder than fear. That night, Liana cried herself to sleep. At dawn, she hugged her brother tightly, kissed her mother goodbye, and climbed into the man’s cart,
and climbed into the man’s cart,
